A New England
by Annaelle
Summary: He wonders how he got here all the time. He looks at the tiny little baby in his arms, no longer startled by the deep forest green eyes that look back up at him—she's beautiful and small and the first Earth-Sky child, and she'll solidify their truce with the Grounders and she's his. He's a father. And he has no idea what to do. Set after 2x08. AU ONESHOT.


**Hey guys :)  
>So, yeah, that went quicker than I thought it would. It still turned into a monster though (14,000 words, I think that's the longest oneshot I've ever written:p) :(<strong>

**Quick warning, this IS a Bellarke fic, but it contains Miller/Clarke and Bellamy/OC and some pretty graphic scenes (though I'm pretty sure those are Bellarke scenes) and one labor scene. **

**Oh, and character death. **

**Just a head's up. **

**Set after 2x08 'Spacewalker'.**

**Completely unbeta'd, I will be editing and beta'ing when my midterms are over. **

**Please, leave a little review to tell me what you think!**

**Love, Annaelle.**

* * *

><p><strong>A New England<strong>

_I loved you then as I love you still  
>Though I put you on a pedestal,<br>They put you on the pill_

_I don't feel bad about letting you go  
>I just feel sad about letting you know<em>

_I don't want to change the world  
>I'm not looking for a new England<em>

_I'm just looking for another girl  
>I don't want to change the world<em>

_I loved the words you wrote to me  
>But that was bloody yesterday<br>I can't survive on what you send  
>Every time you need a friend<em>

_I saw two shooting stars last night  
>I wished on them but they were only satellites<br>Is it wrong to wish on space hardware  
>I wish, I wish, I wish you'd care<br>—A New England, Billy Bragg_

He wonders how he got here all the time.

How did his—_their_—life get to this point at all?

He used to be detached from everything and everyone, except Octavia and his mom, and he had liked it that way. He'd liked that he had no one but his little three-person-family to worry about (not that that little family hadn't caused enough worries for a whole damn country full of people).

It had changed after he followed Octavia to Earth, of course.

Not at first—but slowly, after a few weeks, he started to care about the ragtag bunch of children that was the Hundred.

First, he cared only about Octavia—Clarke followed so swiftly, it was almost natural… And before he knew it, he found himself _caring_. Not just about his own life, but also about theirs—even about the people still on the Ark.

It only went downhill from there—the battle with the Grounders, finding the Arkers that had crash landed on earth, Octavia, _Clarke _(and damn her for making him feel like he couldn't breathe until he knew she was okay), watching Finn die, watching Clarke fall apart under the weight of her guilt while he was trying to hold her together, rescuing the remaining forty-six from Mount Weather (or Mount Doom, as Jasper and Monty had dubbed it), and making new plans with the Grounders to round up all Reapers and cure them.

They'd made _friends_ amongst the Grounders—real, true friends—, they'd moved out of Camp Jaha with most of the forty-seven (bar a few kids who chose to stay with their families) and a few of the others who didn't agree with the lifestyle Camp Jaha was forcing on them. They'd built a village with wooden cabins and made _a home _for themselves and they'd _survived._

If he's honest with himself, he can't hate all of it.

He doesn't _hate_ his life now—he hates that it hurts and that he didn't expect it would hurt _so much_—but he can't hate his life.

He looks at the tiny little baby in his arms, no longer startled by the deep forest green eyes that look back up at him—she's beautiful and small and the first Earth-Sky child, and she'll solidify their truce with the Grounders and she's _his_.

He's a father.

And he has no idea what to do.

.

.

.

**Two Years Ago—The Hundred's village**

Clarke moans loudly, clenching her inner muscles around his length as he moves inside of her, digging her fingernails into his back as he roughly fucked her against the wall. "Harder," she ordered him, tightening her legs around his waist, "Fuck, Bellamy, I'm going to—_ah_—be—_oh_ _God_—_fuck_."

She used to really hate it when he'd come out of nowhere and drag her off to fuck her somewhere in a dark corner, but _damn_, she needs this. They'd gone back to Camp Jaha today to talk about the trade routes and where the Grounders would permit them to hunt and her mother had been there and had been too close and too pushy and—she just needs to take her mind of it.

"Fuck, Clarke," he groans in her ear, rubbing his thumb over her clit insistently, "Fuck, so good."

She cries out when she falls apart, relishing in the feel of Bellamy coming inside of her, his hips slowing to a slow stop as he tries to prolong both their orgasms. She hums contently and leans back against the wall as he slips out of her, watching her intently.

"So, my room or your room tonight?"

Clarke nearly rolls her eyes at him—it's a running joke between them; since their first time, they'd taken turns sneaking into each other's tents when they were living in Camp Jaha. Once they built their own village and cabin, it had become more of a 'your bedroom or my bedroom' kind of thing. She suspects it's some kind of make ego thing because he's always extra-amorous in the morning when they've spent the night in his bed—he keeps trying to convince her to just move into his room, and she keeps telling him 'no'. His best attempts usually happened while he is fucking her—it's a serious mood killer though, and he'd long since learned not to bring it up until _after_ they'd both had their orgasms.

"You know I'm just going to say 'no'," she chuckles, "You'll need to step up your game if you want to stay in your room."

"Hmpf," Bellamy smirks, dropping to his knees before her, grabbing her leg and propping it up on his shoulder, spreading her wide open before him, "You're a greedy princess, aren't you?" Before she could answer him, he ducked his head between her legs again and pushed a finger into her still wet, hot pussy.

She moans quietly at the touch and rests her head back against the wall, while thoughts flutter inside her mind, as evasive and fleeting as butterflies fluttering in the summer air. "Oh," she moaned, "I—oh, God," she moved her hips desperately when he added another finger and his tongue to the mix, "Do _not_ call me that," she manages to choke, feeling herself tighten around his fingers already.

Her eyes roll back into her head when he adds another finger, spreading her open wide and sucking at her clit harshly—and she's gone, crying out his name as she came again. In the back of her mind, she is vaguely aware that things probably wouldn't end to well for them if they were caught now (Octavia would never let them live it down; she'd been taking bets that they were getting it on in the med bay for ages)—what with his fingers and tongue still inside and on her, her jeans lying somewhere behind them on the metal table, her top and bra pulled down to reveal her breasts and his jeans still around his ankles—but she can't bring herself to care.

He's made her come four times in the last hour, and she hasn't once stopped to think about her mother and Finn and whatever _issues_ she may still have with all of that and everything that has happened. It's why she keeps seeking out Bellamy too—she trusts him and she needs him and he knows her sweet spots and how to get her off, and that is all she really wants right now.

"There," Bellamy grins up at her, pulling his fingers from her and licking them one by one, "think about that, princess… Think that's incentive enough?" He presses one more kiss to her clit before he stands up, pulling his jeans up and fastening it.

She is still leaning against the wall, slightly breathless when he winks and smirks at her as he leaves the med bay. Softly cursing under her breath, she begins to dress again, pulling her shirt and bra back in place over her sensitive nipples, wincing as she pulls her underwear and her jeans back on, briefly wondering if anyone heard her and Bellamy in here—they'd been in there for the better part of an hour, and they hadn't exactly been quiet.

She shakes her head when she catches herself day-dreaming about Bellamy (_again_).

She isn't supposed to let him make her _feel_ anymore—she isn't supposed to let him _weaken_ her by making her want to care for him and love him. She sighs heavily and runs her fingers through her hair, furtively attempting to make it look less just-fucked, but it is a lost cause.

She _has_ been thoroughly fucked, and she looks it too.

She feels it.

She is sore and tired, and sated and she loves the high for as long as it lasted.

"Which isn't very long," she grumbles to herself, shaking her head and forcing herself back into doctor-mode when one of the teens comes stumbling in with what looks like a broken arm.

She doesn't think about her conflicting feelings for Bellamy Blake for the rest of the afternoon.

**.**

**.**

**.**

"You know we need them, Bell," Octavia tells him with a slight roll of her eyes, "Lexa said she is one of her best warriors, and also the most motivated to save the Reapers. She's not going to murder us in our sleep. Besides, you're sleeping with Clarke, do you really think she'll let anything happen to you?" She pats his shoulder and moves away, towards her own cabin, where Lincoln is chopping firewood, before he can answer.

He watches the Grounder girl—Cara, he thinks her name is—stoke the fire, smiling at one of the younger boys as she explains him how to keep the fire hot and roaring, but contained. He's feeling oddly conflicted about having the two Grounders living with them in camp—Clarke had convinced him that it wasn't a bad idea, that they could help each other through the coming months by sharing their knowledge, but he's still not entirely convinced he can trust any of them.

Indra's betrayal after Finn's death is still fresh in his memories, and he can't help but be suspicious of the Grounders and their motives.

Especially Cara.

She's a riddle and it makes him uncomfortable.

He doesn't like that she's unknown—and he can't say that having half the boys at camp drooling at her is helping (not that he doesn't recognize she's beautiful in an way they didn't often see on the Ark, with tanned skin and green eyes and auburn hair)—he doesn't know what her motives are and that makes her unpredictable and he doesn't like that.

Clarke and Raven had also both insisted he was being ridiculous—Clarke had resorted to kissing him to shut him up every time he brought it up (he may have brought it up a few more times on purpose after he figured that out)—and promised him that Lincoln had said that Cara and Abe are trustworthy.

Bellamy really wants to trust his sister and his—his… Well, he's not sure what he and Clarke are besides co-leaders who happen to share a cabin and a bed most nights—but he didn't live this long by blindly trusting the word of others.

"Are you going to stare or join us?"

He's abruptly snapped from his thoughts by said Grounder girl, who's now standing before him, hands on her hips and eyes sparkling in amusement.

He glares at her, shaking his head, "Hate to break it to you, but I know how to keep the campfire going." He frowns when she just laughs, shaking her head at him. He stares at her when she moves forward until they are toe-to-toe, her head tilted slightly to the side as she studies him—and that is the kind of shit that makes him uncomfortable and _not_ trust her.

"I spoke to your sister," she says quietly, "She has informed me that you continue to question our loyalties."

He's not sure if he should apologize for doubting her (Lord knows the last thing they need is to offend the Grounders), but the sly grin on her face tells him he's not in too much trouble.

"Worry not," she chuckles, "From what I understand, you and I shared a somewhat similar motivation."

He sincerely doubts that he could have anything in common with a Grounder, but he remains quiet, simply raising an eyebrow at her. He really doesn't care—he just cares about whether or not it'll potentially hurt Clarke and Octavia (and, you know, the other idiots in his camp).

"Your sister," Cara adds, "she is what you fight for, no?"

While it is no secret, sharing his devotion for his sister with a stranger is still a foreign feeling for Bellamy, and he has to actively stop himself from lashing out at Cara to get her to leave the damn subject alone. "She is," he nods tersely, "but I have come to care for everyone here. And I will fight for all of them."

Cara nods, a pleased little smile tugging on her lips—and he may be head over heels for Clarke, but he's not blind, and _damn_… Now he sees why all the boys in camp follow her around like lost puppies—, and nods, "I too have a sibling. A younger brother, Iain. It is a rare occurrence in our culture. Most women have problems carrying one child to term—two children from the same woman is a rarity." She gestures towards the log next to the fire and proceeds to sit, not even waiting for him to respond—what is it with women on earth deciding everything for him?

"It's unheard of up on the Ark," he finally says when her words register, gingerly sitting down on the log too, careful to put a good few inches between them.

She nods seriously, and for the first time, he realizes that maybe she's not so bad after all. "I am aware—Octavia pointed it out to me. She said you have protected her for her entire life—it is what grants you so much respect in our people's eyes. Family is rare and sacred, and it must be protected at all costs—no matter how heavy its burden."

Her eyes drop to her hands, and there is a sudden sadness in her eyes that is so hauntingly familiar that he can't bring himself to be his usual asshole-self. "What happened to him?" The words fall from his lips before he registers giving himself permission to speak, and he's a little afraid of what her answer will be.

"Mountain Men," she replies simply, "They raided our village two winters ago, when I was out hunting for the Winter Solstice Feast with many of our best fighters. They took him, and I did not see him again until a few moons ago, when we were attacked by a group of Reapers. He was one of them."

Bellamy blanches, his stomach turning at the mere thought of losing Octavia and then seeing her as a Reaper, knowing that Cara probably went out to try and find her brother, either to save him or to put him out of his misery—he can't (won't) imagine the pain it must have caused her, and he finds himself with a sudden new respect for the seemingly unassuming girl next to him.

He's not sure he would have had the strength to go on if O had been floated, back in the Ark, and the fact that this girl—who's the only other person with a sibling that he's ever met—is strong enough to keep moving and to keep fighting despite her brother's fate (and he knows that it's the possibility that they can cure her brother that keeps her going right now, however small the chance is) is enough to earn herself a healthy dose of his respect.

"Did you ever find him again?" He asks slowly, eyeing her nervously.

"No," she shakes her head sadly, "but I have higher hopes now. I have seen Lincoln cured, and I have faith in Clarke… And you. You are strong leaders, and it is only befitting that our truce is with you, not the other Sky-people."

Bellamy grimaces at the reminder of the other Ark-survivors, who remained in Camp Jaha after the Forty-Seven had been saved (including Raven, who still refuses to talk to Clarke—and who stopped talking to him when she realized he was on Clarke's side when it came to Finn). "Thank you," he finally manages, "We are glad we finally create a truce as well."

They fall silent and he silently mulls over their conversation when he sees Clarke walking towards them, a curious eyebrow raised and a smile—more real than any smile she's given him in the past few weeks—on her lips.

"Hey," she says slowly when she's reaches them, eyes flitting between him and Cara curiously, "You two doing okay over here?"

"Of course," Cara nods respectfully, before getting to her feet, "I apologize if I have kept him—I was merely explaining my motivation for being here." Her eyes find his, and he is smiling back at her before he realizes he's doing it—he thinks he might enjoy having someone around who knows and understands what it's like to have a sibling to care for.

"It's okay," Clarke reassures her, "I'm just glad you reached an understanding."

Cara's eyes meet his again, and there's something in them that he cannot shake—an instant connection (maybe because of the familial burden they share and understand in the other) that unnerves him greatly—so he just smirks and winks at her, before offering, "You should join us on the hunting trip, next time. I'm sure you go stir-crazy in the village too, and we could use a good marksman—woman, in your case."

Cara's smile is wide and beautiful and for a moment, he's stunned, and then she's walking away, leaving him alone with Clarke—who he still really needs to talk to because… As much as he loves sleeping with her (and he _really_ likes sleeping with her), he doesn't…

He's in love with her.

It's as simple as that, and though he's willing to wait for her, however long it takes, he knows that he _can't_ if she just doesn't feel that way about him.

"Clarke," he starts, unsure if he should bring it up at all, because _fuck_, he's not the kind of guy to wax poetry about love and happily ever after and that kind of shit, but he _does_ want to know—he doesn't want Clarke to be one of those girls who only ever wanted to be with him because he's hot and he's good in bed.

She looks up at him and he winces at the empty, nearly dead look in her eyes before he pulls himself together and shakes his head—Clarke doesn't need him to be a whiny, needy little bitch like Collins was. She needs him to be strong so she can be weak—and she doesn't need a boyfriend right now. She needs someone who'll hold her at night, make her forget the nightmares and fuck her senseless.

He can be what she needs.

And he hopes that, one day, she'll be strong enough to see that he needs her as well.

He'll wait until that comes.

He offers her his hand and smirk that practically drips with the promise of good, hot sex, raising an eyebrow at her when she hesitates.

He'll be what she needs, he tells himself as he leads her to their cabin, and it's enough.

As long as he has her, it's enough.

.

.

.

**A little less than Two Years Ago—the drop ship site**

Bellamy watches stoically as Cara paces outside the drop ship, wincing every time a scream drifts through the thin metal walls—he'd make fun of her, but to be honest, he doesn't know if he'd be holding up as well as she is if it had been O in there.

Probably not.

They'd stumbled across Iain accidentally, while clearing out one of the old bunkers for spare parts and equipment—Cara's brother had been huddled in a corner, pale and very, very hungry—he'd nearly taken a chunk out of Lincoln's neck before they'd been able to knock him out. After a very heated argument between Clarke and Cara—in which he'd taken Cara's side, not Clarke's (for the first time in… Well, a _long_ time)—they'd decided to send Lincoln to Lexa's village to tell her another Reaper had been found and taken back to the drop ship to be cured.

Meanwhile, they'd sent Jasper to get Abby from Camp Jaha with the same message.

He'd helped Monty, O and Clarke drag Iain's unconscious body into the drop ship, where Clarke had unceremoniously tied him up before splashing water in his face to wake him up—at that point, he'd been forced to restrain Cara, who looked murderous (and worried sick) enough to attack Clarke and Octavia.

"Cara," he sighs when she passes him again, grabbing her arm as she kicks at a small rock on the ground, "calm down. They're going to save him—Clarke knows what she's doing."

"It didn't look like it," she snarls, shoving his hand off her arm, "That's my _brother_, Blake—I'll do anything I have to save him—_anything_." The combination of fear and desperation in her eyes hits him a little too close to home and _damn it—_he really doesn't need yet another person to make it onto his People-I-Care-About-List.

"Look, I get it," he sighs, "If it was O in there, I'd be freaking out too—but you're not going to do him any favors if you barge in there and keep Clarke from working her magic."

Before either of them can say more, a loud horn sounds, and Lexa, along with several guards, stomp through the gate—what's left of it anyway—, closely followed by Abby and Kane and a few armed guards. He manages not to roll his eyes (barely), and nods towards Cara, who seems to have pulled herself together somewhat.

She nods back and starts towards Lexa to explain the situation.

After a furtive glance towards the drop ship—he really wishes he wouldn't have to deal with Clarke's mom, who _really_ doesn't like him and has apparently decided to blame him for her daughter growing up in her time on Earth, but he knows that no one else is going to do it.

"Chancellor Griffin," he greets her stiffly, "Clarke and O are inside with Iain—Clarke thinks it might be harder to get him to detox, since he's been on the drug for so long."

The woman simply nods sharply before striding into the drop ship, calling out for Clarke. Kane eyes him suspiciously before uttering, "So I take it your truce with the Grounders still stands?"

"It does," Lexa interrupts sharply, "And it only does because Clarke and Bellamy are reliable—we will not trade with your kind, Kane." Bellamy groans a little, shaking his head before intervening—he swears, he feels like a kindergarten teacher sometimes.

"Okay," he says loudly, "That's enough. We're here to see to Iain—not to fight. This is neutral ground, remember?"

Both Lexa and Kane look like they're about to pout—absolute three-year-olds, he swears—before both nodding and taking up stances at opposite ends of the camp. He rolls his eyes at them and offers Cara a reassuring smile when another gut-wrenching cry emits from the drop ship.

He's not sure how long they wait—the sun has traveled through a significant portion of the sky, and he's had to resort to silly card games to keep Cara calm and patient. He hopes Clarke will let her into the drop ship soon, because he's not sure how much longer he can keep her from storming in there and demanding to see him.

He finds that he actually _likes _Clara, when she's not trying to kick his ass during the sparring sessions they set up to teach everyone at least some self-defence.

She fiercely loyal to her brother and her tribe, and he recognizes that they are lucky to have someone like her on their side—she's already indicated that she likes living in their village, and though it was meant to be a temporary situation, he wouldn't mind if she decided to make her residence in their village permanent—he doesn't have many friends, and he would enjoy having a good friend like her.

"It's been quiet for a while," she muses as she takes a card from the pile, "do you think he's okay?"

He offers her a tight smile and nods. "I'm sure that Clarke would have come out here already had he not been okay."

Cara nods shakily and throws down another card—he chuckles and follows, and before he knows it, the sun is going down and Clarke is stumbling out of the drop ship, followed closely by her mother and his sister. "You can go see him," Clarke says tiredly, "Please don't untie him. He's stable for now, but we don't know how his body will react to the toxin fully leaving his body—he might hurt himself if he gets loose."

Cara's pale, but she nods and shoots a quick at Lexa, who offers her one of her rare smiles and follows her into the drop ship.

"Hey princess," Bellamy smiles as Clarke stumbles into his arms tiredly, "You okay?"

Clarke grumbles unintelligibly against his chest and he chuckles, giving her a moment before he leans down and swoops her up into his arms, ignoring her yelp of surprise as he carries her into the lower level of the dropship, laying her onto the small bed in the corner. "Sleep, Princess," he orders gently, "you're exhausted."

She mumbles quietly before rolling over and burying her face in the soft pillow.

He chuckles, leaning down to kiss her forehead before walking out of the drop ship, nodding as Kane and Abby inform him and Octavia they'll be back in the morning and take their leave—it takes a few more minutes, but then Lexa and Cara come outside again, both a little pale, before Lexa takes her leave as well.

"How is he?"

Bellamy smiles at Cara, who rubs her hand over her forehead tiredly and sighs, "Asleep. He looks awful—and I remember Clarke telling me that they might not be able to save him because he was on the drug for so long and I just—"

Octavia unceremoniously drops herself on the floor between the two of them and shoves a handful of fresh Jobi-nuts in his face. "Here," she grins, "Lincoln taught me to tell the difference between the good ones and the bad ones. These won't make us hallucinate." Bellamy gratefully stuffs his face with the nuts, grinning as he watches his sister and his friends take up their earlier card game again.

It's a pretty perfect night—until he hears Clarke scream.

It happens so fast he barely sees what's happening before it's already over—when he bursts into the drop ship, Clarke is cowering on the small mattress, Iain hovering over her with a large spear directed straight for her heart—he doesn't have time to think; he just does.

He shoves the angry, probably delusional Grounder aside and grabs Clarke, pulling her behind him just in time to protect her from the spear—it hits him instead, knocking him off his feet. His head smacks back against the wall, and for a moment, he sees nothing but sparks and stars, and his blood is pounding in his ears.

_'Come on, Blake,'_ he tries to will his body to get up, to fight its way to Iain, to make sure Clarke and O and Cara are okay, but his body feels heavy and sluggish and he _can't move_.

The drop ship is spinning around him, but he thinks he sees Cara knock her brother out from behind but he can't focus—he hates that he feels so powerless, and not for the first time, he realizes how strong Cara is, and how glad he is that she is on their side.

"Bellamy!"

Clarke comes towards him—at least he thinks she does, because the world is still spinning—, dropping to her knees before him and suddenly all he can see is _blue_ eyes—he's drowning in her eyes but he doesn't mind.

He can see her lips moving but there's no sound and everything feels weird and fuzzy—but it's okay because she's here and she's okay and that's all he wanted.

She can patch him up later.

She always does, he muses as the world goes black.

.

.

.

She can barely see his face peeking from beneath the blankets Octavia had covered him in. She's is relieved now that Bellamy's checked out and deemed fine—other than the deep spear wound in his shoulder—her panic and fear have once again been replaced by anger and frustration.

She is furious with him—not only had he placed himself in direct danger, he did it for her and by doing that, he broke the only and the most important promise he ever made to her, and she cannot simply let that go.

Bellamy mumbles and wiggles a little, the quilt slipping down, uncovering his bandaged shoulder as he hugs his pillow to his chest. Guilt slams into her and makes her gut clench painfully—perhaps he had not been the only one at fault.

Maybe she'd allowed him—and herself—to get too attached.

"Clarke?" His voice emerges from the mountain of quilts and sheets, and his messy dark curls appear as he sits up, rubbing his hand through his hair—her heart clenches painfully; Gods, he's beautiful; but she steels herself.

Doesn't matter how she feels about him and how adorably rumpled he looks right now—he broke his promise and she's _so mad _at him.

"I'm here," she says calmly, forcing herself not to yell at him.

Not yet anyway.

"What happened?" Bellamy asks groggily, squeezing his eyes shut again—Clarke had assumed he'd have a pretty bad headache despite the healing; he hit his head pretty hard.

"Iain's dead," Clarke shrugs, trying not to remember the way Cara had screamed in pain when she'd told her, "He died of sceptic shock after Cara hit him. You hit your head, I think, when you fell—you were pretty out of it earlier." She knows she is being cold and vague and that it is probably the last thing Bellamy needs right now—but she can't help it.

She needs to be mad, she needs to remind him of his promise and tell him that he needs to stick to it or she's leaving, because it's clear Bellamy's not thinking about it and she's _furious_ about that.

He seems to realize—_of_ _course_ he does, he can read her as well as she can read him—and tosses the quilts back, carefully approaching her. "Bellamy," she growls angrily, "Don't—I'm mad at you, damn it." His eyes widen and shine with understanding and regret and _damn_ _it_—she needs to stay mad.

"Clarke," he chokes, "I had to—you need to understand, I couldn't just sit and do _nothing_. He _was going to kill you!_"

"That's _exactly_ what you had to do," Clarke exclaims angrily, "You _promised_, Bellamy! You _promised_ you wouldn't do anything stupid and reckless when it came to me—throwing yourself in front of me and taking a _spear_ to the shoulder is pretty fucking _reckless!_"

"You're being ridiculous!" He shouts back just as loud, angrily poking her shoulder—which only serves to infuriate her further—, "I _needed_ to do something, Clarke!"

"No," Clarke screams, stepping forward to corner him against the door, "You didn't! You didn't have to do anything! How am I supposed to just let that go because you couldn't _stay put_?" She punches his chest angrily, desperately, "Why do you keep _saving_ me?"

"Because I _love_ you," he cries, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her roughly, "I _love you_ and I thought you were going to _die_."

Clarke gapes at him, and she knows that he realizes he struck a nerve—she'd made him promise never to fall in love with her either. Her heart pounds in her chest and she can see the emotions in Bellamy's eyes and it scares the hell out of her because it's what Finn said he felt for her too and he ended up _dead_ because of it.

"Maybe that's the problem," she says coldly, watching as he rears back as though she's slapped him—and maybe it's a step too far and she's going about this all wrong but…

He's too close and she needs him to back off.

Her heart clenches painfully as they stare at each other, and they are silent and completely still for a split-second before they crash together, their lips clashing into a messy, uncontrolled kiss, teeth nipping and biting and hands impatiently tugging at anything they can reach.

She can't think clearly anymore—she can't think about anything but that she needs to make him understand how _terrified_ she was when he jumped in front of her and got hit by the spear.

_She can't lose him too._

He groans when she wraps her legs around his waist, returning his kisses just as forcefully—he feels as though she's a force of nature and he's barely keeping up, barely able to breathe. He carries her to the bed hazily, dropping her onto it unceremoniously, pressing his hand down on her stomach when she tries to wiggle down to rub herself against him.

"No," he says darkly, anger and lust and desperation still flooding through his veins, clouding his mind and his good judgement, "No—you will lay there and take it."

"You better enjoy," she hisses back, eyes darkened with anger and lust, "this the last time we're doing this. Ever. You and I are through after this."

She doesn't wait for him to answer and leans up, capturing his lips with hers again, giving herself permission to lose herself in him one last time.

.

.

.

**A Year and A Half Ago—Grounder village**

"This union will tie our clans together," Lexa nods with a small smile, eyeing Bellamy and Cara thoughtfully, "I am pleased that you have agreed to the match, Bellamy of the Sky People."

Clarke tries not to feel betrayed—she knows she has no right to, because _she_ told Bellamy that he needed to find a way to be happy, because she couldn't give him what he needed, _she _is the one that practically shoved him into Cara's arms and she doesn't have the right to be upset that he did exactly what she told him to do.

Bellamy looks down at his hands, and she knows him well enough to know that he's still conflicted—she understands, she is too, because she _loves_ him, and he loves her, but they just _can't_ be together. They're leaders, they have responsibilities, and they need to be able to put other people first, and she knows she wouldn't be able to put their people first if she allowed herself to be with Bellamy.

It's not fair—but this way, at least one of them is getting a shot at being happy.

She observes the way Cara least forward to touch his arm, forcing her face to remain blank as she watches the two have an entire conversation with a single look—something she had thought he could only do with her.

"I am pleased with the match," Bellamy finally speaks, not taking his eyes off Cara's, "and I am pleased that our union will connect our two clans so that there'd be no more need for hostility or war."

And that, Clarke muses, ignoring the sound of her heart breaking at his words, is the real issue—war was threatening again, because of Camp Jaha's stupidity, and this was the quickest solution she, Lexa and Bellamy had been able to come up with.

At first, they had contemplated allowing Octavia and Lincoln to wed, but then decided that, after Lincoln's betrayal, he was no longer a true clan member, and their union would not tie the two clans together as well as a union between Bellamy and Cara would. Since he and Cara were already close to being a couple, they had been the logical choice for a political alliance.

Clarke offers Bellamy a tight smile when he glances over to her—they still share the cabin, and it's awkward and painful, especially when she slept with Miller three days after she'd told Bellamy to let her go and move on (and yes, she realizes that letting Bellamy catch them naked in her bed in the morning after making sure she screamed as much as she could when she was actually having sex with Miller was cruel and unnecessary, but she knew he wouldn't let her go unless she hurt him and gave him a reason), but they make it work.

She kept sleeping with Miller—she hadn't realized how much she relied on the comfort of sleeping _with_ someone until she stopped sleeping with Bellamy. She'd realized that she couldn't just pick anyone—boys were horrible at being at least a little discreet about who they were sleeping with, and it wasn't until Monty had jokingly pointed out that Miller had a crush on her that she considered him (despite his loyalty to Bellamy, she knew he'd never just brag about sleeping with her and she knew she could trust him).

After he'd moped for a few weeks, on the night of a bonfire with lots of Monty's moonshine, Bellamy had slept with Cara (and they hadn't been quiet, in their drunken state), and Clarke had realized what she had put him through when she practically forced him to listen to her and his best friend ('cause Miller's the closest thing to a best friend that he has and she knows it) having sex.

Bellamy hadn't tried to rub his relationship with Cara in her face after that night (actually, he'd been really discreet about the whole thing) and it made her feel sick that she _had_ done that to him. She'd apologized to him, and they moved past the hurt they'd caused each other—and they'd returned to being friends and co-leaders (somewhat, anyway).

And that's how they ended up here.

"Very well," Lexa smiles, "there will be no need for you to pay a dowry, since Cara's family, sadly, has all passed." Everyone in the room winces at the reminder of how Cara's brother met his end after he broke free and tried to kill Bellamy and Clarke.

"I need for nothing," Cara says softly, her eyes on Bellamy, "only you."

The tender look on Bellamy's face before he leans down to press a kiss to Cara's temple nearly shatters Clarke's heart—but it gives her hope as well. All she wanted for him was happiness, and she knew that she couldn't give it to him.

Not after Finn.

She's hurt and broken and she's not going to be different for a long time, and Bellamy deserves someone who could give him everything he needed and wanted.

They discuss the particulars for the ceremony for a while longer before Lexa dismisses them. Clarke swallows thickly before following the betrothed couple out of the tent, biting her lip as she watches Cara tiptoe to press a kiss to his cheek before she disappears amongst the other Grounders milling about the village.

She watches him for a moment, smiling a little to herself.

He looks happy—despite the shit she put him through, he still looks happy, and she's glad.

"I don't think I've said congratulations yet," she tells him, offering him a sad smile when he just shakes his head, opening his mouth to tell her she doesn't have to—he doesn't even need to say it for her to hear him. She reaches for his hand (his hands are _so_ big compared to hers, it's ridiculous) and squeezes it a little. "I'm glad you're happy, okay? That's all I wanted."

"I could've been happy with you," he whispers, his dark eyes imploring her to see things differently, to give _them_ another chance—a real chance.

And the thing is…

She could.

She knows she could tell him that she loves him too and she knows he would blow off the whole thing, just so he could be with her—and that's why she can't do it.

They have a responsibility to a lot of people, and she can't be selfish anymore—being selfish with Finn had cost him his life and Bellamy has risked his neck to save hers too many times too.

She can't do it anymore.

"No," she says sadly, but with finality, "You couldn't have been. But you can be with her. She loves you. Give yourself a chance to love her."

She squeezes his hand one more time before she lets go and turns around, sedately beginning the long walk back to their own village, refusing to turn around when he calls her name—she can't let him see her cry.

Not anymore.

.

.

.

_**A little over a week later—the Hundred's village**_

"Hey Blake," Murphy bellows across the room, "Where's that pretty wife of yours?"

He winces a little at the use of the word—he'd never allowed himself to think of having a wife, and even when he did, there was only one woman he could see in that role, and it's not the woman he ended up marrying.

"She's still asleep," he answers vaguely, eyeing Clarke, who he's having breakfast with while going over the plans to prepare for the coming winter, nervously. His heart aches painfully as he looks at her—why did he have to fall in love with her?—, but the pain is duller than it had been before. He feels horrible for thinking it, because it's _not_ how he wants to treat anyone, but Cara is the perfect girl to make him forget about Clarke.

He ignores the boys catcalling and turns back to Clarke, blanching when he realizes she isn't sitting across from him anymore, but standing closer to the door, talking softly with Miller.

_Fuck_.

Of course, he knows Clarke's sleeping with Miller—probably started just to piss him off too—but _seeing_ them is a whole different thing and he _hates_ how it hurts to see them. He may have married Cara and he really does like Cara, always has, but he's _in love _with Clarke, and he doesn't think he's ever really going to get over that.

"Hey, big brother."

He tears his eyes away from Clarke and Miller to look at his little sister. "Hey O," he smiles tiredly, "How's Lincoln?" He's not _really_ okay with his little sister being with a Grounder who's like six years older than her, but now that he's married to Cara, he can't actually tell her not to see Lincoln (and he _does_ know that Lincoln's a good guy).

"He's better," Octavia smiles, "He still has a lot of nightmares, but he's doing a lot better."

"Good," he nods absent-mindedly, watching as Miller reaches out to touch Clarke's cheek, "That's just great." His attention is drawn back to his sister when she sighs heavily, and he is a little embarrassed when he realizes O knew exactly what he was looking at.

"How are _you_, Bell?" Her eyes are wide and honest and almost _begging_ him to trust her with all of his problems—he should, he knows that, he expects her to do the same, after all, but it still goes against his every instinct to just unload his problems on her.

"Bell, please," Octavia pleads, "I know you had a hard time too. I mean… Even _I _was surprised when you married Cara—I didn't even know you two were a thing. I thought you and Clarke were still—"

"We're _not_, okay?" He spits, angrily staring down at his stew, "And it's not… I married her to tie our clans together—they wouldn't accept you and Lincoln and… Since Clarke and I weren't—Cara agreed. None wanted another war because Jaha's Camp are all idiots and I…" He sighs and rubs his hand over his forehead tiredly. "I liked her already. I'm pretty sure I can live with her."

Octavia smiles sweetly and reaches for his hands, squeezing tightly with her own—she's got strong, calloused hands now, and he both hates and loves how she's grown into this amazing, strong woman. "Bell, I just want you happy. If you think that Cara could make you happy, then be with her. I mean," she glances over her shoulder to where Clarke and Miller are still standing, "I like Clarke, a lot, and I know you do too… But Clarke—" she bites her lip, and for the first time in probably his entire life, he _listens_ to her (it's a pretty sad thing to realize your little sister who's been locked up for most of her life has more relationship experience than he does).

Octavia shakes her head and smiles sadly. "Finn messed her up. Both her and Raven, but Clarke most of all. And I think she just… I think she could've given you a real chance if Finn hadn't died. But now, I don't think she even knows how to anymore."

All he can do is stare, wondering how on earth his little sister managed to figure out Clarke's motivation for ending their—well, it hadn't been an actual relationship—_thing_ in minutes while he's been agonizing over it for months. "I think I'm in love with her, O," he chokes, wincing when Clarke allows Miller to drag her into a dark corner and kiss her—however short and brief.

"I know, Bell," Octavia smiles sadly, "And that really sucks. But… I think you might be holding yourself back. I know Cara's already pretty much in love with you—and I think if you let yourself, you could love her. You just need to give yourself a chance."

It really hits him that O is telling him the exact same thing Clarke told him before he married Cara—and maybe there's a truth in their words. Maybe he does need to let Clarke go, and allow himself to love his wife—he knows it wouldn't be hard to fall in love with Cara (she's strong and fierce and loyal, and she can kick his ass if he pisses her off—not to mention a hellcat in bed and very beautiful), but he just… He doesn't know how to let go of Clarke.

He _needs_ Clarke.

He needs her as much as she has once told him that she needs him.

"I don't know how to," he admits in a small voice, loathing the vulnerability in his own voice, "I really don't know." Octavia squeezes his hands tightly as he tries to reign in his emotions, offering him the simple comfort that only she can offer him.

He really loves having a sister—almost as much as he hates it sometimes too.

"Baby steps, Bell," she says softly, "start by letting her in. Talk to her. It's easier than you think."

They both look up when Cara walks into the temporary mess hall, her eyes finding Bellamy's almost immediately—and when he lets himself, he knows his wife (he has a _wife_, dear God) is beautiful, smart and strong, and he's a lucky son of a bitch to have her.

"Maybe it is," he smiles at his baby sister, "Thanks O."

He barely hears her chuckled, "Anytime, Bell", before he's on his feet and moving towards Cara, who looks at him in surprise when he suddenly tugs her to him, slanting his lips over hers in an enthusiastic kiss—he hasn't ever kissed her like this before (he's never kissed anyone but Clarke like this), and he's surprised by how much he likes it.

"What was that for?" She asks, sounding a little breathless, when he pulls back, her fingers curled in the front of his shirt—they both ignore the catcalls and whistles from the others in the mess hall as they stand locked in their intimate embrace.

He grins at her, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Can't a man be happy to see his wife?"

"Of course you can," she smiles, her expression a little puzzled, "I was just surprised."

"Don't be," he smiles, stroking her cheek gently, "I'm sorry I wasn't there when you woke up—Clarke needed me to help coordinate the build of the bigger mess hall."

"That's okay," she smiles, "Don't worry about it. You're their leader—I understand it takes a lot of time and dedication. Shall we get breakfast?" He smiles—maybe it won't be as hard as he thought it would be after all. "Yeah," he glances at Clarke and Miller one more time before turning his full attention back to his wife, "Let's."

.

.

.

**Eight months ago—the Hundred's village**

She's telling Sophie, one of the younger girls, to be more careful next time she's on cooking duty while stitching up the rather deep cut on the girl's hand when they come in, arguing softly, Bellamy's hand resting on the small of Cara's back.

It's been over a year, but it still kind of makes her heart hurt when she sees how Bellamy has grown to care for his wife—she can't bring herself to say he might love her—and she has to swallow down the slight jealousy that rears up every time she sees them together. She might have to consider seeing Miller again tonight—it's been a while since she's had sex; maybe that's it.

She sends Sophie on her way with a gentle smile before turning to Bellamy, raising an eyebrow expectantly when Cara just crosses her arms over her chest and pouts petulantly. "She's sick," he explains huffily, "she's been throwing up for the past week and she barely sleeps and nearly fainted earlier today."

"I'm fine," Cara exclaims angrily, "It is simply a spring fever—it will pass."

Clarke stifles a giggle and pats Cara's shoulder. "Well, let's have a look anyway—that way he won't be able to complain anymore."

"Fine," Cara sighs, jumping up onto the examination table, glaring at Bellamy, "but I will cut your pretty face if you attempt to coddle me one more time." Clarke would laugh, but she's seen Cara fight and she knows the woman is probably one of the most deadly warriors in their camp—especially since Octavia and Lincoln moved to Lincoln's old village, to help it rebuild what was destroyed in a recent storm.

"You love my pretty face," Bellamy scoffs, causing both women to roll their eyes at him as Clarke pulls up Cara's shirt a little, pressing the worn stethoscope her mother had given her against Cara's skin as she tries to hear any kind of rasp in her lungs.

"Okay, take a deep breath," she orders, frowning a little when she still doesn't hear anything. She pulls her hand from Cara's back and frowns, mentally running over the list of symptoms Bellamy had mentioned earlier. "So, is your stomach upset?"

"A little," Cara shrugs, "but nothing too bad." She bites her lip and shoots a glare at Bellamy when he opens his mouth to protest, "I am _fine_."

"Let me check your stomach," Clarke interjects at the thunderous look on Bellamy's face, biting her lip a little—yeah, she really needs to go see Miller later—and gestures to Cara to lay down on the table. She's pretty sure that Cara's fine (after all, no one knows Cara's body better than Cara does, and she's pretty sure that Cara wouldn't just say she's fine if she's not).

So, rolling her eyes a little at Bellamy, who is still hovering like an overprotective parent, she gently presses on Cara's stomach, absent-mindedly feeling for anything that doesn't feel right while grinning at Bellamy as he updates her on the on-goings in Camp Jaha (Raven is keeping him updated on that front, while she travels back and forth between the two camps) and Lincoln's village (which he's getting from Octavia, obviously).

"Well," Clarke smiles, moving a little lower on Cara's belly, "I'm not feeling anything that's no—" she breaks off abruptly when she feels something hard, her eyes dropping to where her hands are resting on Cara's stomach, her fingertips inching just below the waistband of Cara's pants. Her heart drops as she mentally lists all symptoms Bellamy had named again, her eyes still focused on her fingers resting on the tan skin of Cara's stomach.

"Oh my God," she breathes, desperately trying to quench the sudden urge to cry.

"What?" Bellamy and Cara both ask at the same time, panic ringing in Bellamy's voice as he rushes forward to his wife's side—'_his wife_, damn it Clarke', she mentally scolds herself—, "Clarke, what is it?"

"Well," she drawls shakily, "I don't think it's spring fever."

'_Get a grip, Griffin_,' she scolds herself again, _'this is not a bad thing—you should be happy for them_.'

Cara and Bellamy are both staring at her, their eyes wide and somewhat afraid. "Then what is it?" Cara asks quietly, reaching for Bellamy's hand—Bellamy grips her hand tightly and steps closer to her, pressing his lips to her hair.

Clarke looks away from the tender gesture and chokes, "I'm actually pretty sure you're pregnant."

She watches, feeling oddly detached, at the stunned smiles that appear on the married couple's faces—she's never had the (dis)pleasure to announce to someone that they were going to have a child, and though she knows it's a joyous occasion, it feels sickening too, because _she could have had this by now_.

It could have been _her_ having Bellamy's child, and for the first time, it truly registers that _she's lost him_.

He's not hers anymore, and it's the first time she really realizes that she never accepted that.

"Congratulations," she offers quietly, "I'll have to check with Lincoln and my mother, but I think you're pretty healthy." She smiles—pretty convincingly too, because she _is_ happy for Bellamy—and gives Cara instructions to take it easy until they've been able to check her vitals.

She watches them leave together, fingers entwined, Bellamy's arm slung over her shoulder and whispering together—and it hurts like it hasn't in a long time.

She closes the Med Bay for the day and sneaks into Monty's tent, stealing one of the bottles of moonshine he has stashed in there and then hides away in the small bedroom in her—their—cabin, drinking deeply and heavily.

She spends hours alone with her thoughts, analysing her conflicting feelings—not that she's very successful. She loves Bellamy—she's tried to make it go away, she's tried sleeping with others, tried falling in love with _anyone_ else, but it won't go away and she doesn't know how to deal with it anymore.

He's happy now.

She knows that he is.

_Octavia_ has told her, multiple times, over the past year, how glad she is that Bellamy met Cara, that they married and fell in love after all. And even though hearing it breaks her heart a little more every single time, she still can't shake the distant belief that she _deserves_ to suffer like this.

That she deserves the pain of having to watch the man she loves be with someone else.

She killed Finn—she made him suffer for weeks by letting him love her from a distance, making him watch as she fell in love with Bellamy—and then they'd lost each other and he'd gone on a killing spree while trying to find her, and…

And now he's dead.

She killed him.

She _does _deserve this.

"Clarke."

Her head snaps up abruptly, and she has to squint to realize Miller is standing in her doorway.

"Hey," she tries to smile, but she's not sure she manages it. She does care for him—obviously, or she wouldn't have kept sleeping with him for over a year—and she's aware that he has somewhat of a crush on her. It's harmless though. Nathan Miller is not a reckless man by any means and she knows he'll never do something stupid or half-assed when it comes to her safety.

She likes that certainty.

It's one she never had with Bellamy—she can tell herself she left him for his own good that way.

People who love her have the horrible tendency to die—by letting Bellamy go (and letting him marry Cara), she probably saved his life.

"Hey," Miller says hesitantly, stepping into the room and carefully prying the bottle of moonshine from her fingers. She watches, feeling a little detached, as he puts the bottle on the small dresser next to her bed and closes the door. She lets him pull her to her feet before he pushes her down onto her bed, stroking his fingers through her hair gently.

It feels nice.

It feels really nice to have him take of her like this and even though she really doesn't think she deserves it, she's selfish enough to let him do it.

"Is this about Bellamy and Cara?"

And then he ruins it.

_Of course_ he has to ruin it.

"You know?" She looks up at him through bleary eyes, belatedly realizing that his coat and vest are already on the floor by the door, and he's not wearing much more than a shirt and jeans—he usually doesn't when he stays the night with her—, and bites her lip.

He nods, dropping to his knees before her, resting his hands on her thighs. "Bellamy told me earlier, to make sure that if Cara sneaks out to join us when we go hunting, she won't overexert herself. Something tells me we'll probably have to keep an eye on her."

"Yeah," Clarke snorts a little, "probably."

Miller offers her a tense smile. "I thought you were okay with it. Him and Cara, I mean." He eyes her a little nervously, "It's been like a year and a half. And I thought we were—" He breaks off and she winces, because _this_…

This is a complication she wanted to avoid.

"Nathan," she sighs, reaching to touch his face, "I _can't_. It's why Bell and I stopped seeing each other—I _can't_ be more… Not for anyone. I _want_ to," she smiles a little, because it's true, she'd _love_ it if she could just believe that she deserves to be loved—but she _can't_. "I just… I _can't_."

"Can you _try_?"

His question catches her off guard, and for a moment, she's not even sure what she should say—she's never considered actually _being_ with anyone since Bellamy; even with Finn, she hadn't really thought of it as something permanent.

But now that he's asked her, the thought is there, and she can't help but love the idea of being happy, even if it's not the way she'd thought it would happen. She looks into Miller's eyes—_so_ close to Bellamy's shade of brown that sometimes, she can pretend it's him—and smiles a little.

Maybe being happy isn't _horrible_.

Maybe Finn wouldn't mind.

Maybe _Bellamy_ wouldn't mind if she learned how to be happy.

She nods slowly, her heart squeezing as Miller smiles brilliantly before he leans up to kiss her abruptly—and maybe it's not what she had thought happiness would taste like, or _feel_ like, but she can learn how to love this.

Miller is a good guy, and he _wants_ her.

Maybe that's all she needs.

.

.

.

**A Week Ago—The Hundred's Village**

"BELLAMY!"

The exclamation is followed by a loud groan, and everyone waiting outside of the med bay winces a little before returning to their prayers—they'd only recently found out that Cara actually giving birth would be _very_ dangerous (some Grounder women simply didn't survive giving birth at all, others were left barren after their first child—and none of the women who carried two children to term lived past giving birth).

Jasper remembers the conversation he overheard between Bellamy, Cara and Abby with a wince and once again wishes that it won't be happening at all.

.

.

.

Cara had been a little over five months along when Abby had sat her and Bellamy down and explained the risk of Cara actually giving birth. "If it comes down to it," Abby had winced, "I might not be able to save both you and the baby, even with Lincoln and Clarke in there." Bellamy had paled and Cara's eyes had teared up, their fingers tightly entwined.

"There has to be something you can do," Bellamy had bit out, "women rarely died giving birth on the Ark, there _has_ to be—"

Abby had shaken her head and offered him a sad smile that did little to console him. "It seems to be a genetic defect in Grounder women. A lot of them die giving birth because their systems aren't equipped to deal with the immense stress a birth puts on a body. Unfortunately," she had eyed Cara, who had been rubbing her swollen belly while crying silently, "there's nothing I can do to change that down here. Even up on the Ark, it would have been very difficult. If Cara develops a bleed during labor, I won't be able to stop it if I'm focused on saving the child. And vice versa."

"What are you saying?" Cara had been quiet and fearful, and it had been the first time Bellamy had actually seen her vulnerable in the entire time he'd known her—including when she had shot her brother to save his and Clarke's lives.

"I'm saying," Abby had sighed heavily, the burden of having to impart such sad news on the young couple, "that I might have to choose during labor—and I need to know who you want me to save. You or the baby." At the stricken expressions on their faces, she had hastened to add, "Look, it may not happen at all, but since I have heard from Lincoln and Nyko that it's common for Grounder women, it is something you need to think about. Especially since your own mother died of the same condition."

"That's not a choice," Bellamy had exclaimed angrily, "She's—we can't—"

"Our baby," Cara interrupted him quietly, "If it comes down it, save the baby. Not me."

Bellamy had rounded on her, eyes wide and disbelieving, his mouth already opened to protest when she silenced him with a single look. "Promise me. If it comes down to it—save our baby, Bellamy. I've lived, I've had my chance in this world—if I must die for our child, I will."

"Cara," Bellamy had choked, "I can't—"

"Promise," she'd repeated forcefully, grabbing his hands in hers, "Promise me, Bell."

A long, tense silence had fallen, and it had taken everything he had not to cry out and beg Cara to change her mind—he had known she wouldn't.

"Fine," he had said hoarsely, "I promise."

.

.

.

Abby, Lincoln and Clarke are all gathered around Cara, who's panting heavily and clutching at Bellamy's hand desperately. "Now I understand why women only do this once," she sobs into Bellamy's shoulder when another contraction passes, "this is horrible." Clarke smiles sympathetically—she can't blame Cara either.

She's been in labor since before dawn—seven hours ago.

They're all exhausted.

Abby chuckles wryly—Bellamy is a little pale and doesn't look like he's going to be able to say anything any time soon—and pats Cara's thigh. "You're doing great—you're almost dilated enough to start pushing, and then you'll have your baby, and I promise, it'll all be worth it."

"You can do this," Bellamy whispers, pressing a tender kiss to Cara's forehead, "just a little bit longer."

Cara sobs a little, burying her face in his chest, choking, "I really do love you—but I am never sleeping with you ever again." They all laugh at that—Abby and Lincoln mostly at Bellamy's expense, Clarke at the look on his face—before Abby gently orders him to climb onto the table to support Cara back.

Bellamy exchanges a quick, panicked glance with Miller, who'd come in to see how everything was going, before curling his arms around her and pulling her closer, supporting her from behind—Miller has fled from the room by now, muttering under his breath about blood and traumatizing things that he can never unsee.

"It's going to be okay," he whispers in her ear, glancing at Clarke desperately, begging her to confirm his words—she bites her lip and nods slowly, reaching out to put her hand on Bellamy's and Cara's.

"You're going to be fine," Clarke offers Cara a tight smile, "Just a little bit longer."

Cara nods slowly, and Bellamy feels her relax for a moment… And then she arches back up, crying out as her muscles tense when another contraction hits her. "Oh _fuck_, it hurts!" She cries, squeezing the life out of his hand. "I know, Cara," he breathes, rubbing circles on her stomach while murmuring sweet nothings in her ear.

She chokes and feels more tears roll down her cheeks as she tries to breathe through the next contraction. She swallows, leaning back against Bellamy as he presses a kiss to her temple. He is being so sweet, and she hates it—because it is all his fault that she is in so much pain right now, and she needs him to know it too.

"God, I hate you," she sobs when the contraction wears off, squeezing his hand as hard as she can to punctuate and underline that statement. She feels him chuckle behind her as he mutters, "No you do not. You love me."

"Not right now, I don't," she moans, rubbing her stomach. "What if she's not okay? What if our baby's not okay?" She curls into his chest and grips his shirt between her fingers, tugging on it lightly—she needs him to be close to her now, and to tell her it was going to be okay.

She doesn't care that Clarke is standing _right there_—Clarke had her chance and she left Bellamy.

She had Miller and she let him walk as well—Cara's too tired to care about propriety and not flaunting her marriage with Bellamy in Clarke's face—she just needs him to hold her and kiss her and tell her that everything is going to be okay. She's been trying to be considerate about Bellamy and Clarke's feelings for each other since she and Bellamy married, but it's been a year and a half, and she's having his baby and _damn it_…

She couldn't care less about Clarke's feelings right now.

"The baby will be fine," he breathes, "you're going to be fine. Now go back to telling me why you are never sleeping with me again." Cara lets a watery chuckle fall from her lips, nuzzling her nose against his bicep, pulling his arm around her as tightly as she can.

As soon as she does, she feels a—by now—_very _familiar tightening, and she pants, trying to breathe through it, like Abby had told her too. She crushes his fingers, and her own hand stings a little where she digs her nails into her own skin—this one seems to be worse and it seems to drag on too long.

"Breathe, Cara," Bellamy kisses her ear, "Breathe through it."

"I am breathing," she wails, swatting at his hand weakly as he wipes her forehead with a cold washcloth, "This is all your fault!" She relaxes into his chest as the contraction diminishes, panting raggedly.

She's already feeling exhausted and she isn't even done yet.

"Okay, Cara," Abby smiles, moving aside so Lincoln can take her place between Cara's legs, "Time to prepare for the birth. You are fully dilated."

"You ready?" Bellamy breathes, stroking her hair nervously as they watch Clarke and Abby move around the room frantically. "I'm really scared," she whispers, locking her eyes onto his dark ones, "What if it goes wrong?"

He licks his lips nervously and tries to smile at her. "It's not going to go wrong, Cara. You're going to fight so you can live and kick my ass another day."

The next contraction feels different, and though she recognizes the feeling from the birthing books Abby had given her to read over the course of her pregnancy, she is afraid to actually bear down and push, because she knows what it is supposed to feel like and she isn't sure she can do it.

Another contraction rips through her and she cries out, grabbing Bellamy's hand again and squeezing it hard. "Okay, Cara," Lincoln orders gently, "You can push on the next contraction." She nods and swallows thickly, bearing down as hard as she can.

"_Fuck_!" She screeches, tears springing in her eyes—she feels like she is being split in two.

Bellamy smiles bravely as she squeezes the life out of his fingers, whispering soft words of encouragement in her ear while she fights through the contraction, trying to push and breathe through the pain.

When the contraction finally passes, she collapses back onto the bed, panting heavily. Bellamy strokes her sweaty, damp hair from her forehead and presses a kiss on her lips. "Almost done. You're a marvel, Cara." He leans up to look at Clarke's mother, who suddenly announces, "You are doing wonderful, Cara—we can see your baby's head, sweetie. One more big push."

"No," she sobs, her body as limp as soft noodles, "I can't anymore, I'm so tired. You can do it, right?" She rolls her head to the side to look at Bellamy and blinks tiredly. "I did the hard part, you can finish, okay? Clarke can help."

Bellamy chuckles a little and Clarke smiles as he kisses her forehead. "I can't pull her out, beautiful, you need to push one more time. Just one more and we can meet our baby." He kisses her, and she suddenly finds some residual strength inside of her, bearing down with every ounce of strength she has left, a near guttural scream falling from her lips as she feels the baby's shoulders slip out.

Her pelvis feels like it is shattering, and she feels like she is dying—and then, suddenly, the pain dulls, nearly disappears, and the room is utterly silent for a long moment, and Cara chokes, slapping Bellamy's arm weakly. "The baby's not crying. Why is it not crying?"

Right then, an angry little cry pierces the silence, and everyone in the room breathes out in relief as Lincoln smiles at them and holds out a squirming little bundle to Bellamy. "Here you go, Bellamy. Congratulations. It's a girl." Cara chokes a little as she watches Bellamy take their daughter—she fits in his arms perfectly, and Cara can't stop tears from rolling down her cheeks at how _perfect_ they look.

She catches Lincoln's eye and at his solemn expression and the slight shake of his head, she knows that it's too late already. She looks back at her husband and her daughter and chokes out a soft sob—it hurts and she's scared, but they're beautiful and they're _so_ worth the sacrifice.

Clarke is staring too, and it comforts Cara to know that Clarke will be there to help Bellamy when she isn't. "Clarke," she whispers hoarsely—it's going quicker than she thought it would, even talking takes a lot of effort by now—smiling sadly when Clarke's eyes widen as she realizes what's happening, "take care of them for me, please."

"Cara," Clarke chokes, "No, you have to hold on—they need you."

Cara chokes on her own tears for a moment before she manages a soft, "No… No, he always needed you—far more than he ever needed me." And she hates to admit it, _hates_ that she's not Bellamy's first choice, but she's a big enough person to know that there's no use in denying the truth.

She knows Bellamy loves her—but she also knows she'll never be enough because she's not Clarke.

"Cara?" Bellamy's voice is soft and panicked, and she rolls her head to the side so she can look at him, drinking him in one more time.

"Hey," she breathes, ignoring Abby and Lincoln who seem to be trying to stop her from bleeding to death, managing to raise her arm—despite that it weighs like lead—to touch their daughter, "she's so beautiful."

"Yeah," Bellamy smiles weakly, "she is. She looks like you. You have to keep fighting, remember? I need you to kick my ass when I'm out of line—I can't do this alone."

Her head feels light and she can barely focus on him anymore, and she can barely breathe. "Bellamy," she moans weakly, her voice barely audible, "Bellamy, I'm so _cold." _She can feel him touch her frantically, shaking her as he yells at her to hold on, and she _wants_ to, she really does, but she knows it's too late.

Her last thought before she fades is that she hopes he knows she's never loves anyone like she loves him.

"Damn it," Bellamy curses, feeling nauseated as he watches his wife rapidly fade away, "Cara, you can't _do_ this to me! I love you! Come on, just… Don't go." He drops his forehead to hers and cries, begging her to hold on, to keep fighting—he can barely breathe and it feels like someone tore a part of him straight from his body without bothering to cover up the wound.

She needs to know that he loves her, even if he's never said it before, and she needs to hang on, because he _can't_ do this without her.

"Bell, Bellamy, she's gone." He can hear Clarke, and he can hear his baby cry but he _can't_—he _needs_ her. He can't do this on his own, he can't be a father—he doesn't know how to do any of this without Cara kicking his ass when he's doing it wrong.

Something is making a horrible, terrifying noise that makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up straight, and it take him a moment to realize that _he_ is making the sound.

He still doesn't care.

His wife died.

Cara _died_ because he got her pregnant.

It's all his fault.

Outside, a confounded silence falls amongst the other villagers as they listen to their leader howl with grief—and they all wonder how a day that was meant to be beautiful and celebratory turned dark and gloomy so easily.

.

.

.

**Present time—The Hundred Village  
>Clarke, Bellamy and Cara's cabin<strong>

"Has he put her down at all today?"

Clarke sighs when Octavia shakes her head, running her hand through her hair tiredly. "Has he at least eaten?" She asks, peeking into Bellamy's room over Octavia's shoulder—she's worried about him. He hasn't put Valari—his and Cara's daughter—down since she was born; he hadn't even put her down at Cara's funeral.

He'd left directly after though, locking himself and Valari in his room, letting no one but Octavia in—and she's pretty sure he was only letting Octavia in because she could feed Valari (Octavia had discovered she was pregnant—and pretty far along—and decided to stimulate her lobules so she could feed the baby).

"He asked for you today," Octavia says slowly, "you should go in—maybe… Maybe it'll help."

Clarke nods shakily, biting her lip nervously—Bellamy hasn't talked to her since Cara's death, and she's terrified he blames her (and maybe part of her feels like he should, because she should've fought harder to save Cara, she should've _tried_ harder to save Cara while her mom saved the baby and she doesn't care what her mom said, it should've been possible). "Raven's outside. She's eager to see you—and the baby bump."

Octavia chuckles and pats her swollen belly proudly. "Yeah, I figured. I'll be back in like two hours, when Valari needs to be fed again."

Clarke nods and smiles, shuffling nervously in the hallway for a moment, watching Octavia disappear through the door, before she manages to gather the courage to open the door to Bellamy's room, laying eyes on her co-leader—her ex-lover—her _friend_ for the first time in a week.

He looks awful—there are dark circles around his eyes, his hair is a mess, his clothes are dirty and he's really pale—and seeing him this _hurt_, this _heartbroken_ shatters her heart and she doesn't know how to make it better (she does know, deep down, that she _can't_ make it better).

"Hey," she says softly, closing the door behind her and moving to sit next to him on the floor, back against the wall.

"Hey," he rasps, never once taking his eyes off his baby girl, who's cradled in his lap, one of his hands securely supporting her little head, "How's everyone out there?"

She sighs and scoots closer to him, leaning her head against his shoulder so she can look at little Valari before she answers—she's beautiful; she looks so much like Bellamy that it's probably not even funny, with a head full of dark little curls and naturally tanned skin; but she has her mother's green eyes and straight nose. "They're worried," she starts, "a little shell-shocked still… Jasper and Monty want to know when they can meet their goddaughter—they seem to have taken it upon themselves to decide who her godparents are."

Bellamy snorts a laugh, dropping his head back against the wall. "Of course they did," he chuckles, "I should've known they'd pull that."

"How are _you_, Bell?" She asks after a short silence, smiling a little when Valari grabs her finger and tugs on it, "I'm worried about you—_Octavia _is worried. And I know that Cara would be too, if she was here." It's the wrong thing to say—she knows it the second the words fall from her lips, but it's too late to take them back.

"Well, she's _not_ here," Bellamy spits angrily, tearing his gaze from Valari for only a moment to glare at her, "She's _dead_, and it's _my_ fault and I'm doing the best I can!"

"Bell," Clarke pleads, her heart aching when pulls away from her, getting to his feet angrily—though he never once jostles Valari—shaking his head. "Bellamy, please…"

"No, Clarke," he says, almost pleadingly, "_no_, okay? I get it—I get why you dumped me; I didn't then, but I do now, and I don't hate you, but you need to _stay_ _away_." There are tears shining in his eyes and Valari seems to pick up on her father's distress and starts fussing, whining and waving her little in the air angrily.

"Bell, it wasn't your fault," Clarke pleads desperately, because this is _different_—Bellamy didn't kill Cara, and she thought he knew that. "Cara didn't die because of you, she died because of a whim of nature—it's _not_ your fault."

"_I_ got her pregnant," he says, almost desperately, "the only reason she was even in that position was because of _me_—and now I have to do this _alone_ and I know it doesn't make sense but it's—" He breaks off abruptly when Valari starts wailing, demanding all attention in the room. "Shh, baby girl," he whispers, rocking the baby back and forth gently—and it's the most beautiful thing Clarke has ever seen (she's pretty sure Bellamy Blake was born to be a father)—, "I'm here, Valari. Papa's right here."

It takes a while, but Valari finally quiets down, slipping into a light slumber easily enough as Bellamy slides down the wall again, plopping down on the floor tiredly.

Clarke bites her lip harshly before crossing the room, dropping to her knees next to him. "You're not alone, Bell," she says softly, her fingers lightly grazing over his cheek, a weak smile playing on the corners of her lips, "You have Raven and Octavia and the whole damn village—and _me_. And I promise you, Cara death was _not_ your fault," she looks down at the baby and swallows thickly, forcing herself to once again voice the acceptance that she had come to in the past seven months, "No more than Finn's was mine."

His eyes snap up to hers and she can see the astonishment in them.

"I know," she snorts through her tears, "I… I was very stubborn about that. But I realized that I couldn't. I couldn't be responsible for what someone else did—and I talked to Octavia and… She made me realize I've been putting the blame on the wrong people all along." She strokes his cheek, resting their foreheads together as she whispers, "I'm so sorry—for everything I put you through. For hurting you, for making you listen to me and Miller, just… For everything."

"What about Miller?" He breathes, his breath hot on her lips and she _almost_ gives in—almost.

"I tried," she shrugs, before admitting, "He wasn't you."

"Clarke," he whispers hoarsely, and she knows what he wants to say—she knows that it would be _so_ easy to just fall right back into what they used to be (before Cara, before Miller, before everything)… But she doesn't want it to be that way anymore.

They've both grown.

"I know, Bell," she breathes, curling herself into his side, smiling when he curls his arm over her shoulder as she rests her hand on Valari's belly, "I know."

It's not a happy ending—she's pretty sure those don't exist—but it's a pretty good start. It's not what she expected her life to be like (she's fairly certain Bellamy didn't either), but it's not horrible—and it doesn't mean she doesn't want Finn and Cara and everyone they've lost in the past three years back; but it does mean that she's accepted that she can't change the past.

But she can change the future—and she doesn't want to have a future without Bellamy in it.

"I never stopped loving you, you know," he says softly, almost matter-of-factly, and it makes her smile.

"Me either," she whispers, resting her head on his shoulder, "Me either."

**The End.**

* * *

><p><strong>Okay, so just to be clear; neither one of them is just going 'move on' like nothing happened. <strong>

**That is not the message of that last paragraph-Bellamy and Clarke have gone through _a lot_ in the two years that pass in this fic.  
>They are only just starting to find their way back to each other. Admitting to themselves that they do not see a future without the other is not a sign of disrespect to either Finn or Miller, for Clarke, or Cara for Bellamy. <strong>

**It's a direct admission that they never stopped loving each other, even when life takes them away from each other for a short time-even when they are with other people that they cared for (and loved, in Bellamy's case). **

**So no, they are not together by the end of this fic. **

**No, there will likely not be an epilogue. **

**But the possibility of them being together in the future, without the shadows of the past hanging between them. **

**That's it, folks!**

**(BTW, I am SO failing my final tomorrow :/ Serves me right for writing fanfiction instead of studying.)**

**Thanks for reading!  
>Please leave a review!<strong>


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